


it feels like i’ve been missing you

by mallory



Series: jake it up cafe [1]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/M, LLF Comment Project
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 14:42:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4309119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mallory/pseuds/mallory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s this girl—<em>woman</em>. Every day at five past eleven, she’ll come into Jake It Up, his cafe, and order a regular latte with extra foam (and sometimes a bran muffin), and take her seat at one of the outdoor tables furthest from the door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it feels like i’ve been missing you

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from ‘Love Is Easy’ by McFly.
> 
> Edited 12/12/15.

There’s this girl— _woman_. Every day at five past eleven, she’ll come into Jake It Up, his cafe, and order a regular latte with extra foam (and sometimes a bran muffin), and take her seat at one of the outdoor tables furthest from the door.

Jake always takes the seat on the other side of the window, inside the cafe, and pretends to read his newspaper but really he watches her from the corner of his eye. On the days she buys her muffin, her tiny nose scrunches up as she peels down the paper before taking a reluctant bite. When she’s done, she pulls out her box of cigarettes and slips one between her pink lips. He concludes that the muffin is compensation for the nasty habit, and he totally digs her logic.

He’s completely entertained by this woman. She’s gorgeous and totally prim, but he bets that if he pushes the right buttons he can get her to let her hair down—both literally and figuratively. (Every day, in every outfit, her hair is always up, whether in a tight, unforgiving bun or a neat, playful ponytail.)

She had put her card in the bowl by the register one day for a weekly draw for a free beverage, and as soon as she left, Jake dove for it. He couldn’t be sure, but either her name’s Raymond Holt or Wanda Gering. He’s taken to calling her Raymanda.

It’s two weeks before Jake even speaks to her, and it’s all because of a stormy day; the wind picking up the rain in all directions. And because of said storm, some of his staff couldn’t make it to work, so Jake’s manning the cash register. He hasn’t worked the thing in two years, since after his business started picking up and he could afford to hire more workers.

It’s almost 12:30PM and, having sent the ones who did make it to work back home during a break in the storm, he’s considering just closing up the store for the day and heading home himself to watch reruns of _FRIENDS,_ when the little bell above his door rings abruptly. He lifts his head from the magazine he’s reading and watches a black umbrella unfold to reveal _her_.

Raymanda shivers in delight as the heater blasts her face, the loose strands of her wet hair sticking to her face. (She’s wearing it in a sloppy ponytail, pairing it with her comfortable black yoga pants and light grey NYU sweatshirt. On her feet are bright red gumboots.

The blast of colour makes him smile.)

“Hey.” He grips the corners of the register screen as she approaches, looking like a sexy wet cat. “Regular latte with extra foam. Bran muffin today?” He glances outside the windows when a branch flies by. _Yikes. She can’t smoke in that weather._

She has her eyebrows raised when he looks back at her. “They let anyone back there?”

_Wha…?_

“I didn’t know you worked here,” she elaborates and points to his chest somewhere. “Where’s your name tag?”

Pointing to himself, he introduces himself with slight pride colouring his tone. “Jake.”

A smile graces her face, and _wow_. “Jake It Up,” she nods in understanding. “No bran muffin today, thanks.” She hands him her money and he sifts it into the cash register as she heads off to take a seat.

Jake keeps his head down, but his eyes follow her movements, curious to where she chooses to sit considering rain is currently pelting against the window where her usual spot is. The storm is so strong that the rain and wind sound like some damn kids are pegging snowballs at his store.

Something in his chest jumps when she plops down at his regular table, sitting in the seat opposite the one he usually plants his ass on.

Jake busies himself with making her coffee, absently timing his movements behind the counter to the beat of the song from the speakers hidden in the corners of the cafe.

She’s on her phone when he glances up at her, coffee ready in his hand. He surveys the empty store and decides to bring it to her himself, but not before taking something from the counter displaying his pastries and other goodies.

She stares at the plate of cupcakes he places in front of her, then glances up at him through her eyelashes.

“On the house.” He grins, makes sure it’s extra boyish. (Charles says it’s his best feature.) “Consider it a reward for not smoking today.”

“Thanks,” she laughs breathily. Her tongue snakes out and swipes along her bottom lip before the top of her teeth snatches it up.

He nods, shoving his hands inside his jean pockets. Lingering for a moment longer to take in her shy expression, he blinks and swirls around. He’s so tempted to peak over his shoulder to see if she’s watching him walk away, if she’s disappointed he didn’t sit down like he wanted to.

Jake keeps himself busy cleaning the coffee machine that doesn’t need cleaning, wiping down the spotless counter, and even rearranging the coffee tins along the shelf below the chalkboard menu (Charles won’t like it when he sees it). It all lasts him until the second chorus of ‘Still Into You’ by Paramore that’s dripping through the speakers, and he drops all pretences and falls into the seat across from her.

She immediately pushes the plate of cupcakes into the middle of the table with a smile. She vaguely gestures to the spot on the table in front of him. “No fudge with iced chocolate frappuccino?”

“Aren’t you a regular Sherlock Holmes to know my drink order?” he teases. He’s going to ignore the fact that he’s been tracking her own order.

She seems to let that fact slide as well, because she laughs with her shrug. “Actually, I am a detective. I started two weeks ago. Transferred from 82 to the 99,” she explains.

“A cop—that’s hot.”

The corner of her mouth tilts up in amusement.

He reaches for the cupcake with the most frosting and licks at the side of his thumb where a smear of pink frosting fell. “Never pegged you for one, though.”

Her mouth drops, and she looks so comical, so… cute. “Hey! Why not?"

He shrugs. “I don’t know. You’re tiny, for one. How do you—Ow!”

She’s got her tiny hand wrapped around his wrist in a firm grip. Ho-ly moly, that’s a firm grip. (His cupcake! It landed upside down on another cupcake.)

“Okay! Uncle, uncle!” he begs, wrenching his arm back after she lets go, and cradles his poor wrist to his chest. He pouts at her. “Do you have a name with that freakish strength of yours?” He can’t be calling her Raymanda for the rest of their lives.

Her mouth twists at his dig the same time a frown forms between her eyebrows. “Amy.”  _Amy. It’s a nice name. It suits her; short and sweet. (Of course, very recent events not included.)_  Then her expression melts into guilt, as if reading his mind. “Sorry. I grew up with seven older brothers. I get enough teasing about my size so it’s a reflexive thing.”

“Noted. And apology accepted. It didn’t even hurt that much anyway,” he claims. Dropping his hands down into his lap, he clears his throat at her knowing look. It’s throbbing like a mofo.

Seven brothers. Eesh. Jake briefly wonders what it would have been like to grow up with siblings, what Amy’s brothers are like, what her brothers would think of him— _Whoa, slow down there, Jake_. _You’ve only just learned her name._

“I was gonna be a cop too, you know.”

Her eyes sweep his shop before she smiles at him. “And give up on all this?”

“Hey, I’ll have you know that running Jake It Up is just as dangerous as policing.”

Amy’s eyes widen and she raises her hands in defence. “Oh, I’ll bet. There’s the unforgiving oven that cooks up to 350 degrees.”

“450, actually. Don’t forget the milk steamer. And Rosa, my baker.”

“Rosa?” she laughs.

“She kinda scares the bajezzus out of me. Don’t let the pretty cupcakes fool you. She has a cut in her right eyebrow, I secretly think it’s from a knife fight or something.”

The loud sound of Amy’s laughter does something to his chest. It’s drowned out too soon by a crack of thunder above them, and they both jump in their seats.

“I can’t believed you went out in that,” Jake muses, staring out of the window where rain droplets are attacking his window like blunt bullets.

“I needed my daily fix,” she says. When he turns his attention back to her, she’s staring down at the latte and tucking her hair behind both ears.

He pretends that maybe she means him.

They talk and eat cupcakes until some time around 3PM when the storm’s died down enough again that it’s safe to leave. Jake closes up shop and they make their way to the door where they bundle up and ready their umbrellas for the light sprinkle outside.

“See you tomorrow,” Amy smiles.

“Not if I see you first,” Jake grins back.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
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